


the seasons keep changing

by 4horsesatetheworld



Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, The rest of the 100 make their appearances, What is Dead May Never Die, but it might melt, hidden identity, honestly I don’t know what this is, i wrote it on my phone, modern with magic, tales of fairies are not to be taken lightly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-07 18:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4horsesatetheworld/pseuds/4horsesatetheworld
Summary: Winter is a harsh season. Clarke knows this; she died during the winter. But she lived too. Different than before she drowned in the forest lake.Things always change, but winter still freezes out the fall and thaws away into spring, and strange things happen in the woods.





	1. falling leaves

Clarke doesn’t remember dying. She doesn’t remember an agressive fight against the ice that kept her trapped under the water. She doesn’t remember letting that icy water into her lungs. 

She remembers falling. And then cold giving way to warmth. She remembers falling asleep and waking up in a hospital bed feeling entirely too warm. 

The doctors tell her it’s nerve damage and that the cold and lack of oxygen affected her ability to feel hot and cold. She would just have to deal with feeling like she was freezing in July and sundresses in January. There’s a story, a fairytale where there’s a man like her. He gets set on fire and freezes, not to death but close. 

At least she can still skate. It’s what gets her from age 8 to 18. She’s good on the ice. Best in their town due to years of training in every free moment. She wakes up in the morning and goes to the rink. She gets out of school in the afternoon and goes to the rink. She’s broken into the ring a few times at three am when she can’t sleep. She knows that Vera knows that she breaks in sometimes, but Vera gave her a job and a key when she was sixteen so Clarke figures they’re good. 

At school, they call her the ice princess. Cold hearted, hard to talk to. She does her work quickly and quietly. She runs the school newspaper with her best (only) friend Wells Jaha with a cool efficiency. She longs for the ice all day. 

Wells tried to be a partner for her, once. He’s been a skater too. Learned after her accident, but she’s better by too much and Wells is too warm for her. They’re friends but not partners. 

One of the other high schools in their district burns down, and its students transfer to Clarke’s. The mid-semester addition folds into Clarke’s organized life and washes her structures away. She gets a new chemistry lab partner, Monty who asks her to join him and his friends for lunch. They don’t know her reputation yet. In English, she’s paired with Finn to read Hamlet. She’s reading for Ophelia, and Hamlet (Finn) is trying to seduce her. He’s too over the top, exaggerated when Hamlet hasn’t quite gotten there yet. Shakespeare can be subtle. Big can be small. Clarke wants to read something else. 

It also means that the rink’s schedule changes. Now, the hockey team practices right after school, and Clarke has to wait, doing her homework in the stands until their practice is over. She misses the boy with the curly hair and eyes as bright as a spring day glancing at her from behind his hockey mask. 

Soon the water recedes, and Clarke’s life settles into its new pattern. She hangs out with Monty and Jasper and Monty’s girlfriend Harper after school as they work on building a greenhouse. 

“Any house I build would technically be a Green house,” Monty jokes. Clarke smiles. They don’t ask why she’s not wearing a sweater when it’s late October. She wanders over to rink after. 

The hockey players have left the ice but the Zamboni has come across yet. Clarke sweeps the ice with a broom, prepping for her practice but too lazy to get the Zamboni out herself. 

“Never though I’d see the Princess do actual labor,” a voice calls out. She turns. It’s a hockey player, bag slung over one shoulder, and a new one from the school that burned down. 

“Don’t call me that,” she bites back. 

“That’s what everyone at school calls you. Clarke Griffin, the Ice Princess. Have to say it kinda fits. Do you ever descend from your tower and talk to the little people?”

“I’m not a princess, and who I talk to is none of your business. Why would it even matter to you?” 

“Finn Collins has a girlfriend. She didn’t get transferred with us.”

“Oh. Finn Collins is an ass then.”

The boy laughs. “Summer boys always are.”

“Are you a Summer boy then?” 

The boy laughs again. “No, Princess. A knight of Spring, I am. When tend to be more ‘arrogant bastard‘ than ass.”

Clarke laughs and the boy smiles. She says, “Well at least you know your strong suit.” 

The boy has no clever retort, leaving them to the awkward silence of near strangers. 

“Good to meet you, Princess, but I best be on my way.” The boy inclines his head and walks away. Clarke watches him leave before returning to the ice and her skating. 

She sees him at school the next day. He’s swarmed by a group of people, girls batting their lashes and boys posturing to be close to him. He nods at her, and she nods back. Finn notices. 

“How do you know Bellamy Blake?”

“He was at the rink the other day. He told be about your old school.”

Finn blanches, and Clarke knows Bellamy was right. 

“I have to get to history. I’ll see you later, Finn.” 

Bellamy shows up again at the rink. This time he’s still on the ice. Hockey gear all gone, he’s in joggers and a loose tee as he shots pucks into the net. He looks up at her when she enters. 

“Hi Princess.”

“Hello, Bellamy. How are you?”

“I’m well. How did you figure out my name?”

“You’re not Rumplestilskin.” Bellamy raises a brow. “Finn told me.” 

Bellamy laughs. It’s a nice sound, ringing in the empty rink. She’s struck by the urge to drag out her watercolors and paint him like this. Relaxed, smiling surrounded by bluebells and forget-me-nots, she can see it like a picture in her head. She can hear the birdsong of the late spring day. It’s an inviting daydream. 

“Do you play any hockey?”

“Yeah, I dabbled in it when I was younger.” 

“Wanna shoot some?”

“I need to practice.”

“Practice later.” Clarke sizes up Bellamy. 

“Do you have another stick?”

“Yeah.” Clarke laces up her boots. They’re not hockey skates, but she can make due. Bellamy hands her the stick; she lets it rest in her hand, muscle memory taking over as she adjusts her grip to make it more of an extension of her hand. 

“Scared Princess?”

“You wish.” She skates over to the pucks. Lines up a simple shot and sinks it. She smiles. Lines up a harder shot. Sinks it. It feels good. She looks to Bellamy, and he’s smiling. 

So Clarke’s routine shifts again. Now, there’s Bellamy in between homework and the rink. He’s good on the ice. Faster than her, but not by much. There’s a suspicion in the back of Clarke’s mind that he used to figure skate. She wants to ask him, but skating is still too special for her. 

Autumn bleeds red and orange until it’s just the bones of winter. Clarke stands in the first snow of the season and lets the warmth of snow envelop her. The snowflakes land like kisses. She stares longingly at the lake and waits for it to freeze solid. 

The new students see Clarke in her dresses and lack of coat and for the first time, Bellamy sits with her at lunch. He brings his friends, Miller and Murphy. They put Monty, Harper and Jasper on edge, but Wells is there to help smooth things over. 

“Brave Princess, to disregard a coat in this weather.” 

“I have nerve damage, you arrogant bastard. I don’t feel the cold.” 

Murphy and Miller exchange a look that they think Clarke misses. Bellamy just says, “ah, so that’s why they call you the Ice Princess.” 

“Bellamy,” Monty interjects, “Why are you sitting with us?” 

“Relax, Green. We come in peace. We’re all friends here.” 

Monty wore his disgruntlement all the way to the greenhouse after school. She asks about it.

“He’s a rebel, and people call him king for it,” Monty says, “As if all there is to being king is power.” 

“Is he a bad king?” Clarke asks. She knows him on the ice and she knows a different Bellamy in the school and she wonders about this new King Bellamy. 

“He is a complicated king.”

“Most are. But is he good?”

“He gets better. But no king is ever truly good.”

“No, leaders rarely are.”

She leaves to go to the rink earlier than usual. She walks through the woods instead of the longer way on the road. Murphy is there, kneeling by a stream. 

“Princess, odd chance to be meeting you here.”

“Just taking a shortcut.” He hums and falls into step beside her. 

“You’re shorter than I expected in a Princess.”

“You’re not so tall yourself.”

“Those of us born to winter so rarely are.”

“Are you my winter knight Murphy?” 

“I’m not much of a Knight.” But he doesn’t deny that he is hers and there is a piece of the puzzle, a gear in the kaleidoscope that’s missing and the picture refuses to resolve but Clarke is so close to seeing the answer she’s been looking for for the past ten years. 

Murphy leaves her at the edge of the wood. Bellamy waits inside the rink. 

“Catch me.” Clarke speeds towards him, cutting into the ice. She jumps, and two strong arms catch her. They spin, and Bellamy sets her down. 

“What was that about Princess?”

“You’ve skated with a partner before haven’t you?”

“Yes. My sister and I skated together when we were younger.”

“Why don’t you skate together still?”

“She is a summer child; ice never suited her.”

Clarke is silent, and Bellamy falls silent in turn. They shoot pucks in the quiet. The pucks hit the back wall with dull thunks. 

“Tell me, Princess, do you believe in fairytales?”


	2. winter winds

Aurora used to tell Bellamy that Spring was a time for longing. It was dawn, the promise of a new day but not a new day quite yet. Almost time for fresh food, but still reliant on the food stored from the harvest. Spring is hope, endless, suffering hope. 

Aurora, Bellamy, the dawn, a beautiful friend, the names fit people of Spring. When his sister is born, he does not yet know the importance of names. He just wants her to be strong. His mother is not strong enough to care for her alone, and Bellamy is given the responsibility. 

By the time Octavia is ten and Bellamy sixteen, it is clear Octavia is not a Spring child. She’s a Summer wildfire. Brash words and rash fists, uncontainable in Spring. But the folk of the seasons are not meant to mingle. The seasons must have sovereignty, or the order may fall. Octavia is a criminal, and the punishment is True Death. But, Octavia is his sister and when they come for her, he kills the knights. 

His sister, his responsibility.

It is the beginning of the end. Other folk fall behind him, follow him, and give him the mission to kill the Spring King, who’s harsh laws have never made him popular. They give Bellamy the name of Rebel King, and their support of him lands him a kingdom two weeks before he turns eighteen. It was not a bloodless revolution. 

His kingdom, his responsibility. 

Octavia ends up gone anyways. A peace offering to the Summer Commander Lexa, a symbol of his submission to the Great Laws for the Autumn Queen Luna, and Octavia’s choice in the end. The Regent of Winter never asks or demands for anything; Winter would just take. 

Bellamy’s ascent to the throne included an accidental fire that burnt down the human school the young Spring Folk went to. Humans became populous that survival of the Folk meant learning to be like them, learning to hide among them. Bellamy places Kane, a close friend and good advisor as regent until he can complete his human education. He doesn’t account for meeting the heir to the Winter Throne in his new world. 

Even in the human world, he cannot run from his responsibilities.

Her name is Clarke, a sturdy name, unyielding, a good name for cold nights. She’s smart, caring but removed, and so terrifyingly beautiful. She will be an excellent queen for the Winter Folk. 

They’ve danced on the ice together, and Bellamy is reminded of his mother. Spring is a season for yearning. 

She listens to him tell her this story; she watches him as he puts away the glamor. He hasn’t seen himself clearly reflected in his True form in sometime, but he knows it’s beautiful. She is silent the entire time but not unresponsive. When he is done, she leans back, falling to lay flat on the ice. Bellamy joins her, staring at the ceiling to avoid staring at her. 

“Monty, Harper, they are Spring folk aren’t they?” 

Bellamy grunts his agreement. 

“I asked Monty if you were a good king,”

“What did he say? He’s not my biggest fan.” 

“He doesn’t understand you.”

Is there a tacit ‘not like I do,’ hidden in those words and the pause that follows? 

Clarke continues, “Kings are complicated, but he thinks you’re improving.” 

“I’m glad I have his approval,” he’s going for sarcasm but it falls into sincerity. 

“Do you think I can do this? Become queen?”

“I think you’ve already begun.”

Forget-me-nots and tulips and the first blooms of spring litter her thoughts of Bellamy. They twirl around his antlers and thread between his fingers. He breathes out, and the feathers along his sides ruffle like leaves in the wind. The skin of his arm is rough like pine bark and she slides her hand along it to twine her fingers with hers. She holds his hand, long fingers with rough skin, and breathes flowers of ice into the air.

Clarke walks home from the rink, and it’s going to snow later. She feels in the air and in her skin, one in the same in some ways. Sweat pours down her back; excitement and cold making her warm. She is becoming, greater and smaller and claustrophobically infinite in her body. 

Clarke ends up by the lake. It’s not frozen solid yet. The snow is really falling now. She takes off her shoes and wiggles her toes in the night air. Her first step on to the ice cracks the surface. She keeps going. The water ignites her skin, nerves aflame. When she’s sunk up to her neck, she lets herself drift on her back and releases herself into the night. The blizzard rages. 

Clarke soars among the trees, skates along frozen streams, breathes frost onto windows, and floats on stray breezes. She visits bears, asleep in their dens. She needles the nettle trees that their branches are still so full. She howls at the moon even though it’s not full and it’s echoing around her through the winter night. 

She flitters and falls with the snow and with a gasp on to the roof of a palace. Her palace. She feels the power strumming out from this place. It beats with her heart. The glass-like ice of the roof is welcoming beneath her bare feet. She passes by the bedroom window of the Regent. He bows to her and smiles. She feels secured, safe.Sshe drifts back to her body, to the lake in the woods where she once died and was reborn. 

She punches through the ice that encased her and gets back to shore. 

Murphy waits for her, glamor gone. His white hair blends with the falling snow, and his blue skin matches hers. He has two knives made of ice strapped to his legs. Even though the temperature is below freezing, he’s not wearing a shirt, showing off spiraling navy blue, almost black tattoos. He kneels before her. 

“My queen.”

Clarke reaches down and lifts Murphy’s chin to look at her. 

“We have a lot of work to do, Murphy. I need you by my side, not on your knees.” 

He stands and they shake on it. 

The blizzard winds take Clarke home. She needs rest for the times to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it looks like this will have four chapter but tbd. If u want more chapters, leave me a comment. Comment if you don’t want more chapters. Just comment. 
> 
> I wrote and uploaded this from my phone so oops at the mistakes.


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